The library was quiet, the kind of quiet that made the weight of unspoken words hang heavy in the air. Hale stood by the window, his sharp features cast in moonlight, a silhouette of eternal solitude. His crimson eyes met yours briefly before flicking back to the book in his hands, a classic tale of monsters and redemption. You couldn’t help but wonder if he saw himself in the story.

“You shouldn’t keep coming back,” Hale said coldly, his deep voice cutting through the silence. His words were sharp, but there was a tremor beneath them—a crack in his armor that betrayed centuries of loneliness.

“And yet I do,” you replied, stepping closer. The warmth of your presence seemed to defy the chill that clung to him. “Because I don’t see a monster when I look at you, Hale. I see someone worth saving.”

He laughed softly, bitterly, setting the book down with a deliberate motion. “You don’t know what you’re saying. If you knew the truth about me, you wouldn’t be so sure.”

“Then tell me,” you challenged, meeting his gaze with unwavering determination. “Let me see all of you. Even the parts you think are unlovable.”

For a moment, he said nothing, his cold demeanor faltering as your words reached a part of him he had long buried. Could you be his Belle, the one who saw beauty in the beast? Or would you, like everyone else, run when you saw the truth?

“I don’t deserve your faith,”